. Mongrel on a Mission ..  .......... ............

. Demolition Dog


Her name is Cracker. She likes to kill small animals, dismantle everything made out of wood, and eat food off the kitchen counter when no one is around to beat her. She is Chaos Theory turned into reality and stuffed into a dog suit.  

 
While I was in Italy, Chris sent me this pic. Cracker really outdid herself by dismantling the gate. I guess she really wanted out. Or maybe I'm being presumptuous with the evidence at hand? BTW, she's neutered. (Speaking of which, just after her surgery she ate some rat poison, thus requiring a blood transfusion from her sister. She has been a handful from the very first day a friend found her as a puppy wandering the streets of L.A. with mustard on her face.) Easter Sunday. Isn't this a day about resurrection? Well, why not resurrect the gate that risks remaining a White Trash Special if I don't get to work on it sooner than later? That old door and chicken wire blocking the hole looks Depression-Era Retro Chic, but it's just a little hard to use the gate that way. 
 

First job was to rebuild the torn out parts of the frame. I really can't believe she tore off the entire diagonal brace. I reused one slat that wasn't destroyed, but I had to cut a new bottom slat since that one was mangled.      

I added a strip of wood along the bottom so I could attach a metal sheet to the gate. It's clear this dog has no respect for wood and metal is the only answer. 
 
Being the House of Junk that we are, I didn't have to buy any materials for this project, including the sheet of metal that happened to be sitting around in the garage. And being the House of Tools that we are, Chris had proper metal shears so I could cut it down to size. That odd thing on top of the fence? That's framed-up chicken wire to keep her from jumping over the top, which she was happily doing. After spending a few hours on this project, I felt that the final catharsis was to post a warning. Whether or not she is literate could be a subject of debate. As with the existence of God, while I can't prove it, I also can't disprove it; likewise, I can't prove that Cracker can read, but I can't disprove it either. I may very well get a note on my pillow tomorrow morning that says, "Don't close your eyes when you sleep" signed with a paw print.
 
As a side note, while I was working away in my shorts and tank top it dawned on me that someone should do a construction version of Hooters: Scantily clad girls who are not allowed to use saw horses bending over to cut wood with their jigsaws. In fact, the dumber the better, because they stay bent over longer. To wit: At one point I thought the jigsaw blade was getting dull because it wasn't cutting well. Umm, turns out I was standing on the cord and the jigsaw just couldn't move any further. I think I'm gonna go get me some double-D implants and then go apply for an SBA loan for my new business venture...      
 
UPDATE! Cracker did try to pull the sheetmetal off the door. Cut herself up fabulously doing it, and then found another way to escape in that corner (she smashed through where there's a gap in the wooden fence to the left). The place was as bloody as a crime scene; I thought for sure I'd find a pile of doggy intestines at the base of the fence.

Now sheetmetal runs up the entire gate and the metal piece to the left of the gate is tailored around a concrete ledge. Another change is that chicken wire, instead of nylon deer netting, runs the entire length in front of the neighbor's fence. Somehow we were deluded into thinking that a little deer netting and the neighbor's fence alone would keep her on our side. 

Heaven forbid that the $1,600 we already spent to have a cyclone fence professionally put in along the two open sides were enough to contain her. What were we pathetic humans thinking?        
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